


lotuses

by theflyjar



Category: EXO (Band), f(x)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood Magic, Blood and Gore, Dark Magic, Gore, M/M, Magic, Mild Gore, Necromancy, Rituals, Souled Vampire(s), Vampires, Witch Curses, Witchcraft, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-15 02:24:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17520434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theflyjar/pseuds/theflyjar
Summary: “It will not be permanent, I promise that you’ll return to life as my Childe once more. It is only to free you.”





	lotuses

**Author's Note:**

> shi lian ren translates, roughly, to lotus eaters

It’s been centuries since Yifan last laid eyes on Yixing.

They’d strayed far apart since Yifan turned Yixing, with Yifan not being the type to keep his _Childes_ on a short leash once they’re on their feet and beyond the grips of being a fledgling. However, at the sight of Yixing, Yifan wishes he had kept Yixing closer. Or, at least checked in with him every few decades or so. It was probably his duty as Yixing’s _Kisser_ , his _Sire._

Upon a dusty altar, Yixing’s stretched out and tethered down to the marbled surface. He looks calm and serene as the witches above him chant their incantations, ceremonial knives digging into his flesh and bubbling up what little blood is left in Yixing’s veins. Yifan wonders how he got here. How he was lured into a witches’ coven, ones that infest the world with their dark magic and unleash darkness upon the earth. In this chamber illuminated by wax candles that flicker constantly on plinths and stone towers. Yifan would have expected this from any one of his _Childes,_ apart from Yixing.

Yifan’s blood, as noble and blue as it may be, is dark and tainted. He runs with the dark witches of the world diminishing the light and savouring the blood of the weak and strong alike when it touches his lips. Yixing, however, Yifan changed Yixing to balance out all the dark. A strong, dexterous, and capable young man, one of pitifully low social standing, was what Yixing had been when he was still human. Yifan had planned to drink him dry, initially. He’d wanted to see sweet ecstasy and death spill over Yixing’s face all at once.

It was pettiness that drove Yifan to change Yixing. A werewolf had recently moved into the town, frothing at the mouth at the sight of flesh. Specifically, Yixing’s flesh. Yifan, as his coven family often state, is a prideful yet possessive hunter. He hunts alone and dislikes the idea of his prey being stolen away. Yixing’s change was more to ensure that the werewolf would never get his jaw around Yixing’s arching neck. Instead, Yifan pricked him with a venom and dragged him into eternity without seeking any permission at all.

Yixing had stuck to Yifan, frightened like a child, when he’d first transitioned. Overwhelmed and wholly inept. Yixing could not bring himself to feed, kill, nor entertain the idea of seduction without love. His purity and naivete had followed him into his undead life, much to Yifan’s initial annoyance. Until, Yixing worked out how to make something work.

With his _Childe_ allowance from Yifan, Yixing undertook studies to become a doctor, one for both humans and vampires. He built a space in Yifan’s coven to house their draining, breathing, blood bags of humans and nursed them back to health. All for them to be drained again. Yixing introduced a cycle of ease for Yifan’s coven, of nursing sick humans over and over again until they were left in a purgatory state of life, living only to feed and be fed from. There’s an edge barbarism to it, Yifan feels, of some of his evil blood mingling in with Yixing’s. But, Yixing spoke of balance.

They would keep those humans until they died, be it from old age or an overeager fledgling, and only then would they hunt again. He said, “Often, I am learning, one has to be cruel to be kind.” Yifan disagreed, he preferred cruelty with no kind results. Nevertheless, he let his _Childe_ do as he wished, allowing him a little indulgence. It worked for many years until Yifan’s mother returned from almost a millennium of wandering; she saw the light that had ebbed into their coven and cast it out. Along with Yixing.

Now Yixing’s laid bare for the darkness in the world to consume him.

Yifan watches from the shadows as Yixing screams, a mix of terror and desperation, that simmers in a fluid warmth in the pit of Yifan’s stomach. Yixing’s blood smells almost human and it makes Yifan feel dizzy with the want to bleed Yixing dry all over again. The thirst is amplified between their faint bond as _Sire_ and _Childe,_ adding a delectable note to Yixing’s blood that reminds Yifan that Yixing is, in part, _his._ He was the one who changed Yixing, the one who is his famed _Kisser._

The ritual lasts for three days, each rite more torturous on Yixing’s body than the last, leaving him gouged out on the altar. Yixing lays there for four more days, unmoving yet lucid. Yifan remains in his observational spot in the shadows.

He has only ever been to the witches' coven three times in his life, despite much of his family practicing black magic there. Yifan has no care for family, apart from when it concerns his mother and her parents. Still, for a few years, Yifan’s felt the urge to go there. Finally, when he grew bored enough his other dalliances, he followed the tug to the coven’s temple steps.

There, he found Yixing, once again.

Impatient and curious, Yifan approaches Yixing on the ninth day after his arrival, removing his _Childe’s_ bindings to free him from the altar. The blood dried on Yixing’s body no longer affects Yifan like it did when it was fresh, so he prods and examines the symbols inscribed into Yixing’s flesh. Yifan’s not fluent in the witches’ lexicon but he can guess at what they mean. They’re surrounded by liquid black, splashed and dried up like blood across Yixing’s body and onto the stony altar beneath. The dark magic of the witches, Yifan assumes, runs through Yixing’s veins now.

Yixing’s pledged himself as the temple’s eternal sacrifice. He’s entered himself into an endless cycle of torment and torture, all for the purpose of besetting the evil, the kind that runs within those like Yifan, upon the world. Into the lives of innocents.

He observes Yixing, frowning down at the absence of innocence before him.

“He’s the perfect sacrifice,” a voice tells him from across the room. His cousin, young and purple-eyed, steps out into the light. “He cannot die, but his blood is still that of a virgin. Untouched by passionate coupling. Ruled by chastity.”

“I thought virgin blood referred to whether or not the blood had been used in sacrifices before, not whether or not the body of the sacrifice is chaste.”

“It does,” his cousin confirms, her smile twisted up until it’s wicked. “But the little sacrifice doesn’t know that. We used him the first time for a proper rite. Now, he’s simply an educational tool, fooled into believing he’s still fulfilling his purpose here.”

Yifan touches Yixing’s cheek, wondering if his _Childe_ has realised he’s been tricked into being bound to the altar beneath him. Even if their connection is distant and has long since grown foreign to Yifan, he knows Yixing wants to leave.

“He no longer wishes to be your carving stone,” Yifan informs her.

She tilts her head slightly to the side, smile slipping into one of amusement and her purple eyes sparkling at the words.

“And how could you possibly know that, dear cousin?” Yifan doesn’t respond to her question, as she doesn’t appear to truly want an answer because her fingers find one of Yixing’s wrists. A power within Yifan wishes to push her hands off and away from Yixing’s naked body, his will to keep his _Childe_ safe rearing up inside him. He remains still, stood beside Yixing’s head, as Yixing’s wrist is presented to him. “He cannot leave, see. He is a _shi lian ren._ He bears the mark.”

Pink and scarred on Yixing’s skin, there’s the pretty symbol of a lotus. Yifan’s stomach curls in on itself at the sight of it, his whole body turning rigid at the idea of Yixing giving himself up to the _shi lian ren,_ cursing upon himself their ways of being, their ways of seeing life. At another touch of Yixing’s face, this time his forehead, Yifan searches their weak connection for answers. He does not receive them all, but one word rings prevalent.

_Escape. Escape. Escape._

That sparks a want within Yifan to take Yixing’s prone body and carry it back to his own coven, where Yixing’s home should be. At his side. Under his protection.

“He wishes to leave.”

“And how could you possibly know that, Yifan? Are you suddenly a telepath? Which witch bestowed you with such an offer? Your mother, perhaps?”

“Keep my mother from your lips,” he warns, hackles raised. “You forget yourself, cousin. You are not the one with power between us, not even in your temples. Know your place. I may have the power of a necromancer, but that does not mean I fear leaving anyone to death.”

The truth rings true between them, Yifan’s a prince where his cousin is only a mere temple witch. Where Yifan sits upon a throne of decadence, beauty, and blood, his cousin is the lowly witch servant who pours his chalice full of warm, ripe blood. She would have to offer her neck to him if he asked for it on a whim. She knows exactly where she stands and Yifan has no qualms about reminding her as such.

“I apologise, _Your Highness,”_ she spits out the final two words with a venom that sizzles and crackles when they meet the marble altar. “Even with your… _standing…_ I did not believe you were able to read minds.”

“Have you forgotten about the power a _Sire_ has over their _Childe?_ Was my father relinquishing the witch kingdom to my mother not enough to sear that power into your mind? Do you not remember watching my mother reach into his mind a pluck his sanity straight out once he’d betrayed us, cousin? _Have you forgotten about the power a_ Sire _has over their Childe?!”_

The final posing of the question roars its way out of Yifan’s mouth, silencing the chattering fledgling witches in the hallways and smaller temples. Authority drips from each word and syllable driven between them, to the point where Yifan sees his cousin falter and now her head to him.

“He is _your Childe?”_

“He is my _Childe_ of light.” Yifan clarifies, knowing that Yixing is somewhat infamous amongst the darker realms as being the creature of light Yifan introduced to the darkness. “His devotion to me, as his _Kisser,_ undoes any bindings set upon him in these temples.”

“But not his allegiance to the _shi lian ren?”_

His cousin is not testing him, nor second guessing his standing of power, it’s a general question. One that had just begun to emerge within Yifan’s brain. No one other than the _shi lian ren_ themselves know of their power, know from which tiers of supernatural hierarchy they descend, know how deep within the world they penetrate.

The _shi lian ren_ is elusive and exclusive, running largely undetected by many, and Yifan is only aware of their existence because he has — upon many occasion — been offered a place amongst them. They thirst, like Yifan does for blood, to have someone from his royal line within their midst. He wonders how Yixing came to learn of them, to be invited in and branded as a member.

Yifan announces, upon closer inspection of Yixing’s mark, “He is not yet fully initiated.”

“How can you tell that?” She asks, releasing Yixing’s wrist to let it lay back down by his side.

Yifan hesitates but answers the question, speaking aloud as an attempt to make everything make sense in his head. He doesn’t see why Yixing would let the _shi lian ren_ brand him, not unless he didn’t know what the _shi lian ren_ are at first.

“He does not have the colouring on his brand yet. Nor has the scent of his blood changed, he has not been anointed a member yet. He’s maybe only been with them a decade… Not the thirty years they require to be fully brought into their circles.”

“And how would you know this?” His cousin tilts her head to the side when he glances up, her brow furrowed. “Are you a member?”

“No, but they want me to be. They divulge quite a lot when they want you to join…”

“Maybe a little too much in this case, then?”

Yifan hums, casting his glance back down to Yixing.

“Possibly. But that doesn’t matter so much right now. Yixing’s mind feels trapped, like he’s caged in with no escape… Not only from this temple but something bigger. There’s a,” Yifan pauses, searching for the right word, “pressure, but a shadowed one. Like his mind is being compressed by something foreign and malevolent. It doesn’t fit with the rest of his mind and soul. It’s a void attempting to eat the light within him whole, to consume it until he’s overrun with some kind of plague.”

Yifan’s cousin moves around the altar, her long red, hooded cloak billowing around her as she moves to stand at Yifan’s side. He watches her as she moves, slow and humanlike with bare feet touching upon the stone flooring, over Yixing’s dried blood where it had splattered down onto the ground during the rite.

“He volunteered as a sacrifice on behalf of the _shi lian ren,_ surely? This may be part of his entry into full membership, as a pledge of some sort?”

Yifan shakes his head, he may not know his _Childe_ explicitly well, but he knows enough. More than his cousin, more than the _shi lian ren_ ever could. Yifan could reach into Yixing’s soul and mind and touch them both as if they were objects. Yixing’s at war with whatever eats away at him, battling against it with a stubbornness Yifan had always sensed was there, even before he turned Yixing from human to vampire.

“Then why is he here?”

Yifan ignores his cousin once more, unclasping his own cloak from around his neck and allowing it to fall to the floor soundlessly. He removes his shoes next, his bare soles touching the ground for a moment before he leaps upon the altar but not touching Yixing. He crouches by Yixing’s left ribs, leaning over his _Childe’s_ body until he can see each cut and carving into Yixing’s flesh. He moves his gaze up Yixing’s body slowly, touching Yixing’s face gently with his fingertips. Yifan takes a moment before pulling Yixing’s eyelids up to look at his eyes.

He sighs deeply at what he sees.

Clouded over the brown that Yifan knows that Yixing’s eyes are is a milky white. A pale pearlescent blue like a cataract but not solid enough, instead the white moves around in wisps. He leans in closer and senses his cousin doing so, too, and her reaction mirrors Yifan’s.

“They are only supposed to be white during the incantations, yes?” Yifan’s question goes unanswered, both of them aware that Yifan’s correct in what he says. “Bring me who performed and oversaw the rituals.”

“It could be a mistake of one of the novitiates, Yifan. There may not be anything of the _shi lian ren’s_ darkness at play here.”

“That is why I wish to see the novitiates and the one who oversaw them, cousin.”

Yifan’s cousin bows her head down and leaves the temple chamber swiftly, her feet padding down the hallways and her voice carrying through the air as she barks out names Yifan’s unfamiliar with. He ignores the sounds and commotion around him to place all his attention on Yixing. He lets the eyelids below his thumbs go and uses his hands to pull Yixing upwards, until he’s sat upright with his head bowed into the curve of Yifan’s neck. With some manoeuvring Yifan manages to part Yixing’s lips with his fingers and finds Yixing’s canines extended, guiding Yixing’s teeth to the jugular in Yifan’s neck. There’s only Yifan’s vampiric blood left in his veins, having not drunk from a human in many days. That’s enough, though, to get Yixing to start drinking and Yifan cradles the back of Yixing’s head gently with one hand and keeps the other around Yixing’s waist.

He lets Yixing drink until Yixing begins to move, his arms wrapping around Yifan’s shoulders and Yifan adjusts the way he’s crouched to accommodate him.

It doesn’t take three minutes for Yixing to begin to weep, sobbing in tones of heartbreak into Yifan’s throat, trembling in the arms of his _Sire_. Yifan can sense how safe Yixing feels, he knows that Yixing’s aware that it’s him who’s holding him and keeping him propped upright.

“What have you done, hmm?” Yifan hums in a whisper.

He’s always been tender with his _Childes_ whenever they need it, despite preferring cruelty itself, he knows that those he’s thrust eternity upon need guidance at times. He’d simply never expected Yixing to need it. He’d always been so much more than any of the others Yifan’s turned.

“Sir! You cannot touch the sacrifice, you could get tainted!” A frantic voice yells through the chamber, a barrage of feet following and heading in Yifan’s direction.

Yifan does not move, nor does Yixing. Though, Yifan’s not entirely sure how touching Yixing can taint him, he can feel just through his hands touching Yixing’s back and head how much _light_ is trying to escape from Yixing. There isn’t a single thing within Yixing that could darken Yifan anymore than his soul has been scorched of almost all goodness.

A hand reaches out to grab Yifan’s shoulder and pull him down from the altar, he can sense it. He remains steadfast in holding Yixing in position, no matter how much force the person trying to touch him uses. They even attempt to use magic, which should work on most vampires. However, Yifan was birthed with the blood of a witch in his veins, his father’s lineage powerfully enforcing its reign over Yifan’s body alongside his mother’s.

“Do not lay your hands upon him!” Yifan hears his cousin call. “The spells will have no effect on him. He is my cousin and the sacrifice’s Sire, you must release him. He has witch’s blood!”

Even if his cousin is a mere chamber witch, the man who grips Yifan’s shoulder relinquishes his hold and steps backwards.

Slowly and carefully, Yifan shuffles both he and Yixing around, keeping his _Childe_ held closely to his chest. The man before Yifan wears the markings of a temple prince, dried blood marking his skin like tattoos and eyes such a pale brown, they’re almost golden. He bows down before Yifan until his knees are bent up to his chest and head is pressed down into the ground below, muttering apologies that Yifan nods away.

“Bring the healing mage,” Yifan commands. “And blood, lots of blood. As much as you can find. Kill for it, if you must.”

No one moves, the novitiates too perplexed by being commanded by someone so unfamiliar, someone who even their temple prince bows to. They do not know of Yifan himself, but his cousin hurries the novitiates along, giving them orders they must obey.

Once it is only Yifan, Yixing, and the temple prince remaining, Yifan seats himself down to place Yixing on his lap. The _Childe_ still drinks from where Yifan’s neck has been pierced, sucking Yifan dry of vampiric blood in his veins, leaving the vicious shell of a parched vampire. Yixing, though, he still cries gently upon Yifan’s skin, likely shedding tears of crimson blood to bleed into the fabric of Yifan’s silken shirt.

“You should have announced yourself, Your Highness. We could have prepared blood for you.”

“There’s no need, I do not plan on staying for long. I am here for Yixing. He called out to me and I am here to take him back to his home coven.”

“My Liege,” the male witch begins, stumbling over his words, “you cannot take him. He is here as pledged sacrifice from the _shi lian ren,_ he has an obligation to remain here until they free him of these bindings. He is our sacrifice.”

“And you performed his virgin blood rite, have you not?”

“Well, yes…”

“Then he serves no other purpose to the temple than to act as a practice carving stone for your students and, never in any eternity, would I ever allow my _Childe_ to be demeaned and preyed upon in such manner. He does not belong to you, nor does he belong to the _shi lian ren._ He belongs to me. I am his maker. I am his _Kisser._ I am above the laws of this temple and of the _shi lian ren,_ temple prince, I am the son of the moon queen.”

“I understand that, but Your Highness, you must sense this predicament and see how he cannot leave. If we lose the favour of the _shi lian ren,_ then we lose the favour of a specific kind of power, power which keeps you and your family as strong as you are.”

With a slow breath in, Yifan waits for the witch to finish prattling on, zoning out from his voice to listen to the way emotion heaves through Yixing.

“My _Childe,_ can you sit on your own now?”

At direct reference, Yixing withdraws his teeth from Yifan’s throat and stares up at his maker, eyes wide and still concerningly white. Still, Yifan can see the ease that’s there, one that only comes when a _Childe_ is with their _Sire._ Yifan’s never known that sensation, being a born-vampire, but he can sense from Yixing that Yixing knows Yifan is there to take care of him.

Slowly, Yixing nods and rights himself to sit more upright. He stays in close contact with Yifan, though, like a suckling child with its mother. Yifan indulges him, petting through his hair and holding one of Yixing’s hands loosely in his. The temple prince watches them, clearly fascinated by the bond between a _Sire_ and their _Childe._

When he’s ready to dismiss the temple prince, there’s a commotion rushing through the hallways that lead to the chamber they’re in. There are numerous people, even more than before, rumbling into the room and Yifan can feel the powerful burn of thirst that only ripe human blood can bring. He senses a change within Yixing, too, who has surely sensed the bodies of pulsing veins heading their way.

The novitiates, along with Yifan’s cousin, bring four dozen humans into the chamber and Yifan’s ears ache with a ravenous kind of joy at the sound of hearts thudding with fear. Yixing’s a little more reluctant, observing the humans warily with glances between Yifan and the group being brought to them.

“Leave us to feed,” Yifan commands and, this time, all but the humans bow down to the command.

There’s a paused moment before the witches leave their chamber. Only the quivering humans and the vampires remain. Yifan can smell the confusion amongst the group at the sight of one vampire in a fine, loose silk white shirt dappled with blood paired with straight black trousers, and the other stripped completely bare, only wearing the markings of evil in the language of witches. He relishes in it. Frightened prey are always his favourite, adrenaline and fear sweeten their blood in a potent cocktail.

“Come on, little one,” Yifan whispers into Yixing’s ear. “Let us feast.”

Yifan leaps down nimbly, turning towards Yixing with his hand extended up to him. Yixing takes it gladly and struggles to haul himself down from the altar, still using Yifan to support him as they pace towards the cowering crowd of people. It’s quiet when Yifan lets go of Yixing, choosing to stalk around the humans to assess his prey before striking.

He strikes a young teenager first, ripping out their throat with his fingernails to drag the body towards Yixing for him to have, knowing Yixing’s probably still too weak to do any such hunting, even if the humans are trapped in the chamber with them.

That’s when the pandemonium begins. The humans panic and try to escape, attempting to bang on the doors to be released, only for Yifan to pick them off, one by one, until there’s a pile of corpses built up in front of Yixing.

There’s a streak of pride within Yifan when he sees how monstrous Yixing is in his drinking, switching from human to human with abandon that Yifan has never associated with his _Childe_ before. He assumes Yixing’s been starved of blood, kept on limited rations, not enough to replenish him and heal his wounds. It’s intentional and malicious, something Yifan would think marvellous had it been done to anyone other than Yixing, anyone other than one of his _Childes._

He joins Yixing after a few minutes just observing. Plucking a body from the pile and guzzling down the fresh, terror-sweetened blood until it spills over his lips and stains his shirt through. One person, one woman, appears to still be breathing when Yifan pulls her out.

“Little one, come here, drink from a live one,” Yifan calls out, beckoning Yixing over and using a fingernail to cut the woman’s neck open until the gargles and chokes on her own blood. “It’ll taste even better.”

Yixing wastes no time in hurtling to Yifan’s side, licking up what blood has been spilt down the woman’s front before sucking on the wound Yifan made for him.

They drain each and every person in the chamber, full and sated by the time they’re finished and Yifan pulls Yixing near, using his tongue to collect up the blood that had missed Yixing’s mouth. Once Yixing’s clean, Yifan removes his own shirt, allowing Yixing to return the favour. There’s a firmness in how Yixing moves now, his body regenerating itself at a visible rate as his cuts, scars, and his lotus burn all heal to reveal beautifully smooth flesh.

The healer comes to them like that, both thrumming from their feed and letting the warmth of the blood in their stomachs to permeate through their flesh until the feel almost alive.

“It is the eyes, yes?” The wizened witch asks, approaching them with a caution all witches should have for vampires. “I can already sense something within him from outside the temple walls.”

“Do you know what it is?”

Yixing flinches back, hiding himself behind Yifan when the healer approaches, Yixing shaking his head over and over again. “What’s wrong, little one? The healer is here to help you.”

Unmoving, Yixing remains tucked into Yifan’s side. He does not speak, he only shakes his head as the healer continues on her path to stand before them, until she’s within arm’s reach of Yixing. The _Childe_ trembles with fear, even with the sense of safety being with his _Sire_ brings.

“Tell me what’s wrong, Yixing.” Yifan senses himself growing impatient, holding himself back from barking in fury at his _Childe._

“Your Highness, he cannot speak.” The healer touches Yixing’s cheeks, cupping them with both hands until Yixing finally opens his eyes again. “Whatever magic is at work here, it’s been woven into his brain. This is far beyond what we teach our novitiates, far beyond what we teach even the temple prince. This is the work of a mage, dealing in darker magic than us. Only a being of equal or exceeding power could break this spell.”

“Do you know how to fix it?” Yifan roars, striding away from Yixing to walk off some of the jittering feeling in his stomach. “Can you heal him?”

The healer sighs, “I can only do so much… Even if I wished to do more, this is magic I’m unfamiliar with and beyond my capabilities.”

“Is there anyone here who would? Is there a break to this spell?”

“If this is the work of the _shi lian ren,_ which I’m almost certain it is, then there will be no one in this temple who can unpick the webbing in his mind. This kind of magic makes our rites look like blessings, Your Highness. And only those present in the ritual shall know the break, I know nothing of how to shatter the bindings on him. You shall have to seek the power of a being much more powerful than I. Much of his body, I cannot heal on my own, as it is. Your dear one has found himself caught up in something he should not have been involved with. Stay close with him, I fear he cannot see, too. A blind vampire is still a creature of power, but he is vulnerable.”

“Why did you continue on with using his body as a practicing vessel if he is so feeble?” Yifan demands to know, fury building up inside of him at how much the healer appears to know about Yixing’s condition already.

“We do not look a gift horse in the mouth, Your Highness. We were bestowed with him from the _shi lian ren_ and we did not know he was of your creation. He was gifted to us to be used for learning torment and pain, to let us teach our novitiates what do at your bidding.”

Not wishing to listen to any more of what the healer has to say, Yifan leaves the conversation there and temporarily leaves Yixing’s side to pick up his cloak and slip his feet into his shoes. Instead of tying the cloak around his own neck, he clasps it around Yixing’s to cover his bare skin from sight.

The material touches the floor, with their height so vast, and the crisp red fur contrasts beautifully from the pallor of Yixing’s skin, a regal draping that suits Yixing perfectly. Yifan tugs one side of the robe and Yixing instantly moves to be at his side, Yifan guiding him out with a loose arm around his waist.

“Where are you taking him?” The healer yells, panicking.

Yifan ignores her, breaking the locks on the chamber’s doors to take Yixing out of the labyrinthine temple, passing the temple prince, his cousin, and their novitiates all along the way. The prince and Yifan’s cousin let out echoes of the healer’s question. Each witch tracks them out but falls short as Yifan hits his full vampiric stride, which has even Yixing lagging tiredly behind.

They only stop when they emerge out into the dark night sky, the town at the base of the mountain the temple sits on glimmers in the distance with their fiery street lights and candle lit rooms. Yifan walks slower as they make their descent from the mountain, humming softly every now and then to soothe Yixing’s jittery nerves.

When they take a break, pausing halfway down the mountain side, Yifan touches Yixing’s cheeks once more. The call for _escape_ is far duller than it was before. Instead, the looming presence of otherworldly darkness is kept at bay by a sense of safety and calm. It’s Yifan’s influence on the darkness inside Yixing, something to temper what’s been beyond Yixing’s control for a long time, and there’s an apparent healing to their closeness. It would be a relief to Yifan, if he could properly experience that feeling.

When Yifan lets Yixing go to scout out which way they should head to get to Yifan’s coven, Yixing panics and frantically reaches out after Yifan with a surge of fear of abandonment slicing through their connection.

“It’s okay, little one,” Yifan whispers just loud enough for Yixing to hear, “I’m simply plotting our journey. I’m not leaving you, I would never leave you alone like this.”

Yixing nods, lowering his arm slowly enough for Yifan to know that his anxiety has not yet been fully quelled. Yifan treads closer to him, bowing his head down to until his forehead rests against Yixing’s, and he closes his eyes. Leaving him as blind to the world as Yixing is. The gesture bolsters the younger vampire, allowing Yifan to induce upon Yixing the sensation of togetherness, that even if Yifan lets him go, he will not be left alone.

It’s Yixing who withdraws first, releasing Yifan entirely and sitting on the ground, the cloak pooling around him as he indicates that he’ll wait for Yifan there.

That’s all it takes for Yifan to take off into the thick, dark underbelly of the forest and he climbs a tree to scout out the area, looking for markers to identify which direction _home_ is. So much has changed since Yifan had last come to the temple, the town had evolved and expanded into a micro-city and the landscape had been shifted by the elements and at the hands of the witches. Yifan knows, after little time at all, that he has to find a way to sense which way they should go.

There’s a warmth spreading through his gut when he asks his instincts: _which way is home from here?_

The pull that had brought Yifan to the mountains where the witches resides returns, promising that it’ll lead Yifan home and he trusts it. In fact, he doesn’t have to go very far for the tugging to disappear to nothing because it fades away the moment he sees Yixing, sat with his eyes closed upon the dirty ground.

 _This is our home,_ his instincts tell him as he reaches out to help Yixing make it to his feet once he makes his presence known.

Whilst confusing, the sensation is frustrating. Yifan’s uncaring of any sort of connection he may have with Yixing, whether it goes beyond what he’s sure is their _Sire_ and  _Childe_ bond. It won’t matter at all unless he gets Yixing to safety. He asks his instincts to take him to where Yixing will be safest and that appears to change the course set within Yifan. Yifan thinks of his childhood home, of where he has felt the most protected and where he knows he will have not only his coven, but his mother on his side.

They begin to walk south, moving at a vampiric pace through the trees that the witches and any informed member of the _shi lian ren,_ could not keep up with. It tires Yixing quickly, as if he’s got holes in the soles of his feet that drains the human blood he’d consumed straight out to disappear into the ground. Yifan knows it’s the magic within him, that Yixing is consuming every ounce of energy he has to offer to keep the malevolent creature in his veins from devouring every corner of his mind. The only times they stop is to let Yixing feed from Yifan’s wrists and throat, to give him the energy and to enable the magic running through Yifan’s blood to battle the void attempting to spread through Yixing.

Yifan can tell Yixing wants to communicate details as they walk but that he doesn’t have the means to, and he knows Yixing is aware of that too. It’s only confirmed when Yixing relies on showing Yifan emotions instead. He uses their connection to show Yifan when he’s tiring, when he’s thirsty, and when he needs Yifan to hold him to keep what’s creeping in his head at bay. Yifan obliges everything Yixing asks from him, attempting to take care of him in the best way that he can. Yifan’s not sure if it’s his instinct as a _Sire,_ guilt from leaving Yixing vulnerable to the _shi lian ren_ and witches, or if there’s something about the way Yixing holds himself that makes Yifan want to bow down at his feet.

It takes two days of near constant movement until Yifan slows them down and navigates through cypress and dawn redwood to find shelter. He leaves Yixing’s side to stalk animals, leaving them at Yixing’s feet for him to feed on before seeking out prey for himself. There are no humans for fifty leagues, leaving them only with wildlife to drink the blood of.

Yixing is ravenous when he first drinks, breaking out into a frenzy of drawing blood and draining life. Yifan is more careful, keeping his senses alert to anything following him. He senses a presence and he isn’t sure if it’s paranoia, so he asks Yixing who nods in instant response. The most sheer kind of fear within Yifan comes directly from Yixing, sending an electric shock right into the death occupied gallows of Yifan’s brain. Even when the witches were torturing him, Yixing did not even show this level of fright then, but this presence. It has a clear effect on Yixing. He deteriorates faster than before, his eyes almost glow with white, and twisted up, strangled noises try to escape from his chest and throat. Yifan can see, even without their connection, that whoever or whatever is following them terrifies him.

“Come on, little one,” Yifan whispers, taking Yixing’s hands in his own.

Even with Yifan trying to yank Yixing along behind him, the _Childe_ could hardly stay upright and his feet stumbled one after the other. In a flash, Yifan hauls Yixing onto his back and begins to run. He hurtles between the trees with Yixing clinging to him, arms wrapped tightly around his neck, and the cape fluttering around wildly as they move.

Whilst it’s not the best way for Yifan to run, it’s far easier for Yixing with his whole body seemingly dying. The darkness within Yixing moves more ferociously, as if antagonised by Yifan trying to guide Yixing to the safety of the coven.

Before long, they reach Yifan’s coven, sprinting through the territory until they get to the house.

Rather chillingly to Yifan, the house is totally empty and barren of all life. There’s not a single drop of blood around and Yifan takes Yixing up to his bed chamber, laying Yixing upon the bed he keeps for his human prey. He gives Yixing a quick drink of his blood before taking off to one of the libraries, the one in the basement only lit by candles.

There are no flames burning when Yifan enters but he doesn’t care much for that. He scours the shelves for any books on the darkest of magic that would be in the house. He knows his father was a dark witch, he knows his mother practices when she is left alone, and Yifan’s aware that he has the blood of a witch in his veins. He doesn’t know exactly what he’s looking for but he’s sure that he will know as soon as he sees it.

And he does.

Buried deep within the recesses of the cabinets and shelves, there’s one book of inky black and it carries with it the stench of death.

Yifan pulls it out and returns immediately to Yixing’s side, sitting himself next to where Yixing’s laid out across the bedding. He flicks through the books, trying to remember what little witch lexicon he learnt from his parents, with Yixing suckling blood from his left wrist. The symbols hardly mean anything to Yifan anymore, no matter how much and how hard he stares at them.

 _Witches write to_ show _you what you need. It’s a story for you to follow and interpret on your familial own._

The words of his mother ring loudly in his head until he closes his eyes and hones in on her voice in his mind. When he reopens his eyes, he does not attempt to read. He lets his brain create a narrative from the iconography, following the glyphs in numerous directions on the page, and the whispers begin to resound in Yifan’s ears.

They’re the voices of his ancestors, guiding him through the rest of the pages with the clarity of their knowledge, like a mother trailing their child through some gardens. Yifan feels feather light and doused wholly in the demonic dark of his family’s spirits. They speak in tongues and riddles, but it’s enough for Yifan to grasp some kind of understanding for himself. Every single speaker runs in discordance with all the others until Yifan reaches the final page of the scripture.

Then suddenly, all at once, they chant in a chorus only Yifan can hear.

_Light that penetrates the depths is the light that triumphs. Blood will betray you, but the spirits of your blood defend you._

_Light that penetrates the depths is the light that triumphs. Blood will betray you, but the spirits of your blood defend you._

_Light that penetrates the depths is the light that triumphs. Blood will betray you, but the spirits of your blood defend you._

If only left with the words, Yifan wouldn’t know which direction to turn in. But, alongside the words, Yifan’s submerged into a vision made up entirely of feeling. There is no sight and Yifan has no voice to use, but something is all over him. It’s trying to drag him downwards until he’s immersed, Yifan doesn’t know what covers him but it feels familiar. He cannot place it. It’s cold and it encapsulates him with a constant weight that’s not crushing yet it’s smothering. His body feels heavy, like it’s laden with lead. He thrashes around, trying to free himself. He’s reaching out, too, in search of the hands he knows will hold him and pull him out to safety. Yifan can still hear the voices and Yixing’s breathing.

When the vision disappears, Yifan sees a flash of milky white in his eyes for a split second when he opens his eyes. He looks down at Yixing, who’s in a comatose state, and understands the fear Yixing feels. He knows that what the vision brought to him was a place inside of Yixing’s head. The breathing he could hear was not Yixing’s, it was his own. The hands he was reaching out for were his own.

A single tear of blood leaks from Yixing’s right eye, marking a red striation down his temple with the bulbous waterdrop end paving the way. Yifan reaches out and touches it with his finger, letting it coat the tip and holding it up in front of face for closer inspection. The night stills suddenly, the blood slipping in alongside the vision.

The sensation Yixing feels, it’s drowning. Rather than a void, like Yifan had thought before, it’s like a widening lake that’s crashing down on the shores of Yixing’s being. He rushes to look at Yixing’s wrist, where he’d thought the lotus burn had healed and discovers that it’s there, again. It’s fresh-looking, as if only done moments ago, and Yifan touches it for a moment. When he does, instead of vampiric blood appearing, water the shade of charcoal suffuses to the top.

It’s logical, Yifan finds himself thinking, that a lotus cannot grow and bloom without water. It forges beauty from the water-darkened depths beneath it and lays atop the surface as a lure to topple those who look too closely into drowning.

Flipping back through the pages of the book, Yifan finds a series of floral drawings, all labelled with the descriptors of their magic. He holds Yixing’s arm out before him and searches for the design but there’s so many lotuses, so many symbols of the _shi lian ren_ that he can hardly tell them apart. Like his mother always advised, he reads the images as a progressing story, ranging from the mere subscribers to the _shi lian ren_ ending up with the fully-fledged members. When he does that, locating Yixing’s marking from the selection is done with ease. Yifan notes that sits set apart from the rest of the others, indicating a spiritual relationship between the one who bears the mark and the _shi lian ren._

“He was the perfect candidate for us,” a single voice sings through the chamber. “An eternal damned soul, so devoted to the light that it spills from him in abundance despite his vampiric nature. He submits easily, too. He’s the perfect spiritual force for us to drain for our empowerment. The more of his light he gives, the more our darkness grows.”

Yifan draws his gaze from the book to look into the corner of the room, seeing his cousin sat upon an ornate chair. Her eyes are no longer the purple of a witch, but the blazing fuchsia of the _shi lian ren._

“You’re with them.” Yifan states. He does not question what is so obvious between them. “Did you pick Yixing because he’s mine, cousin?”

Yifan’s cousin laughs, “At least address me by my name, Yifan? Now that we’re almost equals.”

“If you wish, Qian.” Yifan moves the book from his lap and stands from the bed, walking around until he stands between his cousin and Yixing. “Now, answer my question.”

“No, we did not. That ended up being a fortuitous happenstance for us.”

“I’m going to free him from this curse, Qian.” There’s a protective lilt to Yifan’s voice that causes Qian to smirk in some phrasing of delight.

“Then we will have to kill you first.”

Yifan has been alive for thousands of years more than Qian and it appears that she forgets the age he has on her. The time he’s been able to spend refining himself and forge himself into a being of near-mechanised killing.

She sits with confidence in herself, something Yifan would commend, had she not openly threatened both him and his beloved _Childe._ Then, she stands, palms open and facing Yifan to direct her magic in his direction. It only takes her speaking three words for her to realise something is amiss. She tries over and over, with both pink and purple eyes, to ignite the magic that refuses to be lit. Her confidence dwindles to nothing fast and Yifan knows he has an opportunity to impart wisdom upon his feckless cousin.

“Being part of the _shi lian ren,_ does not change the fact that it is the combined prowess of our ancestors who provide you with the magic you wield. It goes against our bloodline to eat the cursed lotuses.” Yifan walks toward her calmly, his shoes tapping on the hardwood flooring below his feet. “If you misalign yourself with the will of our ancestors, you misalign yourself with your own magic. If you betray your blood, then your blood betrays you.”

Yifan approaches her, smelling the fear as it ebbs out of her every pore, and it ignites the forbidden darkness within him. His mouth aches for him to drink her blood, to tear her throat out and consume the bloodied flesh of her body until all that remains is gristle and bone. However, he pins back that thought and pushes her down into her chair once more.

She trembles under the crushing weight of Yifan’s hands and each urge from within him begs for him to throttle her, to get a tight grip around her throat and tear her head clean off. He does not do as such. Instead, he leans down close to her face and gives her a small smile. One he knows is a degree of sinister she’d have never seen from him, far darker than anything she’d ever have encountered, beyond what even the _shi lian ren_ could even wield. Eyes black with no brown to soften them, no whites to frame irises, only abysses devoid of all light and pointed, vampiric teeth on show, Yifan gives himself into the beast that rages within him.

“There’s a reason why the _shi lian ren_ wants me and my mother in their ranks so desperately, cousin. You think you have true power, you think the _shi lian ren_ has the kind of power to make you worth what you truly are, but both are fallacies. You  _conjure_ darkness up from the souls of the light. You are not the darkness itself.”

Qian grips the arms of the chair in desperation as Yifan’s hands move from her shoulders to her skull. He knows that with just a light squeeze of his fingers, he could crush her brain from the outside in, and she knows that, too. Instead, he presses his fingertips to her temples, allowing the voices of his ancestors guide him in opening her mind up to him. He can immerse himself in it, like he could with the vision from within Yixing’s senses.

This time, he’s catapulted to a labyrinth in a room full of cloaked figures with their heads bowed. He can see Yixing chained and scared, restricted to the centre of a room, surrounded by more hooded figures. There are lotuses surrounding him, some holding candles, some holding chalices of blood, some holding tongues and fragments of brain matter, and three housing still-beating hearts. There is one in a pink petal covered cloak, the mage that leads the rite and commands action after action.

First Yixing’s fingers are burnt with the candles until they bleed, his screams are deafening and his body squirms as he struggles to escape. The cloaked figures, including the mage, continue to burn down Yixing’s arms, creating a blackened trail of scorched flesh in their wake, all the way down to his navel. Three collect the blood in Yixing’s veins and decant it from his body into bowls until they’re full. They leave him to writhe as they take up the goblets of blood surrounding him, weaving spells into each drop as they pour it into Yixing’s scream-widened mouth and to the open wounds the fire leaves. Even in the dim light of the stone chamber, Yifan can see how the blood turns from a beautiful crimson to a slithering black as soon as it leaves the lip of the cup. Yixing drowns as he screams until there’s thing at all.

He remains conscious as silence falls, his voice stolen away from him as they cut down from his throat, through his sternum, and down into his stomach with an ornate ceremonial blade.

The mage speaks and the others begin to chant as they place the tongues, the brain tissue, and hearts into the bowls of Yixing’s blood. The mage’s binding incantation is repeated through the hall.

_Never, until death, may you speak. Never, until death, may you see another path. Never, until death, shall you ever think of anything other than to serve. Never, until death, shall your heart beat for anything._

Each member present in the room takes a sip of Yixing’s blood as the bowl is passed around. The mage takes up the knife and the members step closer to Yixing, holding out their palms for the mage to slice open, for their blood to drip down onto Yixing’s body. Once each member has passed, a pod of lotus seeds is inserted into the open flesh of Yixing’s stomach, where it defies nature by growing, flowering, and blooming all within an instant. The lotus is ripped out from where it laid its roots within Yixing and he is fed a single petal, forced to swallow it down. Then, each member is handed a piece of the flower, the mage telling them, _“This is a symbol of his being which now belongs to us.”_

Yifan can feel everything Qian did in that moment, he senses remorse and the weight of vomit urging to come up through her throat. She’s evidently disgusted by the scene around her, too soft in the stomach to bear the torturous rite.

When Yifan removes his fingers from Qian’s face, she’s ashen in colour and her lips are tinged with blue, making her look so wonderfully dead that Yifan wants to leave her in that state permanently. To drain her of every single drop of blood.

“Maybe the _shi lian ren_ isn’t for you, cousin, given that you can hardly bear to watch a simple binding right, no?”

She meets Yifan’s eyes and tries to scowl, but the pallor of her fear-stricken face gives her away, and Yifan licks his lips.

“You know, the last time I drank a witch dry, it was my six hundredth cycle on this earth. My mother and I used my father’s blood as a feast, and sometimes I think of the taste and my mouth waters. It may have happened so long ago, but I wish we’d kept him alive a little longer, because to a vampire, the taste of a witch is quite the delicacy.”

Qian doesn’t even have time to respond before Yifan’s teeth are buried in her neck, filling his mouth with bittersweet blood. He can taste the flavour of lotus in her blood, feeling the darkness it masks flowing into his mouth and down his throat. He takes more than he requires to kill, leaving her barren of a single drop that could possibly heal her.

He kicks the chair away as she slumps and returns to Yixing’s side, taking his wrist and biting into it gently. Black rushes out, like water breaking through a dam, to drench the bedsheets. Like Yifan inwardly speculated, Yixing’s eyes flicker open once enough has left his body, and he reaches to cup Yifan’s cheek with the feeble yet most sincere smile he’s ever received.

With as much tenderness as Yifan can muster, he leans in and whispers into Yixing’s ear, “Little one, to free you, I must kill you.”

Yixing’s mouth hangs open with fear and his eyelids flutter with shock, but he’s too weak to escape Yifan’s hands.

“It will not be permanent, I promise that you’ll return to life as my _Childe_ once more. It is only to free you.”

Those words do not quell or alleviate any of the fear radiating from Yixing, but he nods slightly, in acceptance rather than understanding. Yifan pulls Yixing upright before collecting him up in his arms to carry him through the house until they are outside once more. Yifan walks until sunrise, to a lake where the sun glimmers off the surface and the wind hardly causes a ripple. Yifan finds irony in the presence of lotuses that cling to the shoreline, and that irony only makes the location all the more apt. To free Yixing in the presence of the flora the _shi lian ren_ claim for themselves.

Yifan lays Yixing upon the shore to unclasp the cloak around his shoulders. He strokes Yixing’s cheek with his thumb, knowing the action and any kind of contact between them gives Yixing a sense of safety and security that Yifan himself does not comprehend.

Once Yixing’s anxiety lessens, Yifan lifts him up once more before wading out into the water with Yixing in his arms. At the feeling of slowly being submerged in a lake, Yixing thrashes around in fright and Yifan bows his head down to place his forehead against Yixing’s.

“I will not let it hurt you,” Yifan promises. “Believe in me, believe that I shall restore you as you once were. No ritual they could do to you would ever break a bond already forged between us from the moment I created you from your human body. You are not fully bound to them, but you are to me. I promise you, that neither they nor death will harm you from this moment onwards.”

Yixing stops still at those words, eyes open and searching for Yifan, even if he cannot see anything beyond the barricade the _shi lian ren_ has set to hinder his sight. It is then that Yifan lowers Yixing down deeper, until the water covers even the very tip of his nose.

It is there, in Yifan’s arms, that Yixing drowns, rocking gently as the tidal flow sways them. His hair splays around him and from Yifan’s eye drips a single red tear. The moment the heart in Yixing’s chest takes its final beat, Yifan uses his finger nail to drag down the vein in the side of Yixing’s throat, unleashing the _shi lian ren’s_ darkness into the water that surrounds them. As it disperses, Yifan uses the voices of his ancestors in his ears to let the words of a purification incantation to spill from his lips, dissolving the darkness as it escapes Yixing.

When the black is replaced with red, right at the moment the sun rises high enough to refract from the water above Yixing’s skin, illuminating him in a spectrum that breaks through the darkness of the depths, Yifan pulls Yixing’s body from the water. In an instant, Yifan rips the flesh covering his wrist open and places it to Yixing’s still, cold, wet lips. At the same moment, Yifan bites into Yixing’s neck and cuts open a small cut on his tongue, pushing it into the puncture wounds, spreading the power of his vampiric and witching blood directly into Yixing’s veins.

It takes many torturous minutes before a limp thump of Yixing’s heart echoes through Yifan’s head. That’s succeeded by a sucking sensation on Yifan’s arm, delivered from Yixing’s mouth, signifies some kind of life within Yixing. More time passes before Yixing is relieved of death, his eyes opening to show white dissipating into pools of brown, he coughs a few times over, spluttering blood, water, and black magic all at once. At the sight of Yifan above him, Yixing reaches weakly up to cup Yifan’s cheek and Yifan removes his wrist from Yixing’s mouth and leans down, pressing his lips to Yixing’s.

Surprise sparks through their bond, but Yixing’s hold on Yifan’s face grows firmer as life returns and his want to kiss Yifan increases with each moment.

A moment of separation has Yixing murmuring, _“Thank you,”_ on Yifan’s lips once before tilting himself up to re-join their lips in another kiss.

They remain like that until a shiver runs through Yixing’s body, only then does Yifan carry Yixing out to the shore and clothes him in the cloak again. The trousers and shirt upon Yifan’s own body is soaked with the purified water of the lake, but he does not mind. He hardly feels the cold and the sun is climbing higher and bringing with it enough warmth to keep Yifan comfortable.

“How?” Yixing asks when Yifan brings him up to his feet, pulling the hooded robe around himself to conceal his healed, born-again body.

Yifan decides to not hide the truth and reveals all he, himself, can comprehend.

“In each spell remains a way to break it, it is a fact of magic that even the darkest of wielders must adhere to, even if only to anticipate the required emancipation of the subject. Someone from my bloodline was at the spirit binding rite and the joint memory of our shared ancestors allowed me to see what she did, to learn what it would take to break the spell, and the mage mentioned a binding until death. As a creature of eternity, that should have meant until the end of time itself for you.

“What they did not know was that I, the son of the vampire who rules darkness and the offspring of a dark witch, am your _Sire._ The combination of my bloodlines gives me the powers and appearance of both, meaning I possess the rare talent of necromancy. Their binding spell did not take into account that your _Sire_ may be equally, if not more, powerful than their strongest mage – and I highly suspect that my abilities surpass their mages, being of mixed blood.”

Yixing blinks at Yifan, furrowing his brows slightly and opening his mouth to give his response, only to halt himself and accept what’s been said.

Such an action amuses Yifan; even with the ability to speak, Yixing chooses not to. Instead of pressing him to say anything at all, Yifan takes his _Childe’s_ hand and guides him away from the edge of the water and deeper into the undergrowth. Yixing prefers to hum to practice his voice rather than communicate directly, but Yifan can feel everything Yixing can. And he can hear the way Yixing’s heart falters when he turns to look Yifan in the eyes.

There’s a short pause where Yifan takes Yixing’s hands in his own, stopping the two of them from walking and he kisses Yixing once more there. The _Childe_ flusters for a moment when Yifan gazes into his eyes to say, “If you spend eternity with me, I will make sure nothing hurts you again.”

“I know,” Yixing says, smiling, spilling his light into even the darkest caverns of Yifan’s being.

They walk slowly until evening rolls around, then they hunt the nocturnal animals as they wake, and feed on their journey back to Yifan’s coven. Even there, they do not separate.

When Yifan leads the way into his bed chamber, Yixing follows after him with his fingers curled tightly into his cuff. Upon the splintered chair Qian’s body had been on lays a single lotus flower. Yifan pries Yixing’s hand away to collect it up and crush it in his hand before Yixing even notices it there. Yifan knows it’s a warning, but he ignores it as Yixing approaches him, whispering, “Yifan, truly, thank you,” and kissing his mouth gently.

No petalled warning from something Yifan does not fear could ever mar the adoring brightness in Yixing’s warm, brown eyes. No darkness, not even his own or that of the _shi lian ren,_ could fade Yixing’s light.


End file.
